Its hard to find words adequate to express Giris’ nature, he had such contradictory characteristics. It almost as Mark Twain said about India, “anything that can be asserted can also be denied”. What can’t be denied is his constant spiritual search and his generosity, even to those who had once wronged him. We met over 40 years ago when he was the director at the Sivananda Yoga Ranch in Catskills and was a wonderful friend ever since. He was incredibly supportive of me when I went into a depression on the bus trip to India in 1985, and I always appreciated that, despite his busy schedule, he made time for us to catch up and go to the theatre when I was in London. I came across this poem my Maya Angelou which I think applies to Giris. When Great Trees Fall trees fall rocks on distant hills shudder lions hunker down in tall grasses and even elephants lumber after safety. When great trees fall in forests small things recoil into silence their senses eroded beyond fear. When great souls die the air around us becomes light rare, sterile. We breathe briefly. Our eyes briefly see with a hurtful clarity. Our memory, suddenly sharpened examines gnaws on kind words unsaid promised walks never taken. Great souls die and our reality bound to them takes leave of us. Our souls dependent upon their nurture now shrink, wizened. Our minds, formed and informed by their radiance, fall away. We are not so much maddened as reduced to the unutterable ignorance of dark, cold caves. And when great souls die after a period peace blooms slowly and always irregularly. Spaces fill with a kind of soothing electric vibration. Our senses, restored, never to be the same, whisper to us. They existed. They existed. We can be. Be and be better. For they existed. Shakti (NY)